Elliott’s chest tightened. He had heard those words in his dreams. They were the words of the Midnight Man. He sat quietly at Libby’s bedside, trying to be brave. The image of a hooded figure rose in his mind. It was as if he was feeding off Libby’s connection with the Midnight Man. His pulse quickened as the image sharpened. Two faces, he thought, hugging himself in the chair. The Midnight Man has two faces. One good, one bad.

33

‘Poor taste, isn’t it?’ Maggie pointed to her newspaper. ‘Taking a photo of the funeral.’

Sarah squinted at the black and white image. She had been looking over Maggie’s shoulder at the crossword competition, not the story next to it. Anything to kill the time as they sat, waiting for Elliott to emerge from Libby’s room.

‘Is that Angelica’s funeral?’ she said, taking in the image of a family standing at a graveside, hands clasped, heads bowed. She may not like Simon Irving, but even he deserved time to mourn.

‘Yeah … it is.’ Maggie looked down her reading glasses which were perched on the end of her nose. ‘That’s Elsie’s son, isn’t it? I thought it was family only. What’s he doing there?’ Much had been made of the Irving family’s request for complete privacy, with promises of a memorial mass for the public to attend later on.

‘You know him?’ Sarah looked at her friend curiously. She’d never mentioned keeping in touch with Elsie.

‘I should do, he works for Moving & Rentals in Upper Slayton. I rent my house through them.’

‘Strange. As you say, I wonder what he was doing there?’ Sarah scanned the picture of Christian, standing a foot away from everyone else. With his thick black hair and ill-fitting suit, he looked out of place next to the family, who seemed perfect in every way even in their tailored mourning black.

‘He must have slipped through, like the photographer,’ Maggie snorted, folding the newspaper in half. ‘Bloody rag.’

‘I’ll have that,’ Sarah said, as Maggie stretched to throw it in the bin. She slipped the paper into her bag and raised her head at the sound of Elliott’s squeaky trainers as he plodded down the hall. He looked a pitiful sight, his head down as he avoided eye contact with the nurses who passed him. Maggie was too proud to accept charity, but the kid really needed some new clothes. Anyone could see his jeans were too short, and his sweatshirt was clean but worn. She’d considered offering to take him shopping, but it was too early in their renewed friendship for that.

‘How did it go?’ Maggie asked as he drew up beside them both, his hand interlocking with hers. Her face looked hopeful. ‘Did Libby say anything?’

Elliott screwed up his forehead. ‘No. Sorry.’